


The One Where Sam Is Totally Dazzling, Baby

by samidha



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But I sort of created my own prompt, Crack, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Gen, I lost a bet in 2008 and wrote this as payment apparently, POV Dean Winchester, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-26
Updated: 2008-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-12 19:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11743917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/samidha
Summary: Sam has become...distinct.





	The One Where Sam Is Totally Dazzling, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> I lost a bet apparently, can't remember what it was about, and the prompt was for the reason why supernatural creatures are always drawn toward Sam and want to do naughty things to him. I internalized this prompt as Sam becoming *distinct* and there's a supernatural reason. Between these two prompts....this is what you get.

Dean knows there is something weird going on, because he’s starting to _notice_ Sam. Because, look—Dean has spent practically every waking moment in proximity to Sam, unless Sam’s being a geek about school and has begged off a hunt—again—so when Dean notices something’s different, it is. He would know.

So there he is, noticing Sam, and it’s totally not the way Dean would notice chicks, okay, so don’t even go there. Even if he was—Dean is not even okay with thinking this, but way too many people have read them as gay since Sam started doing this weird whatever-it-is, and that makes his brain go there. He’s trying to get his head around it, because yeah, Sam’s a Sasquatch, but they have the same eyes, okay? And the same _dad_? Who’s _always with them_ on the road? But no: Strangers have to go there. (Dean tries to pretend he doesn’t know what they mean, but he isn't actually that stupid.) 

So, thanks to way too many roadside fuckers, he’s had to think about it and then proceed to get ridiculously drunk to forget again. Thank you, he really appreciates that. Nosy bitches and their sick implications. So. Point is, even if he was noticing Sam like he would notice a chick, he would not go there, because, hello, brothers?

But that doesn’t mean that Dean doesn’t notice Sam. He does. He notices Sam right along with every girl who ever even breathed on a geek before. There are girls in glasses following Sam everywhere. Dean can’t blame them. He’s pretty sure that Sam is, like, glowing or something.

It’s almost exactly like that, because Sam walks into a room, and Dean swears he sees everything else go a little darker around his brother, and Sam’s skin’s kind of got this golden tint thing going on. Dean tries not to think about it, because it’s weird, and Dad’s pretty much just like, “Oh. Thank God. He can talk to girls.” And Sam’s starting to learn that if he sets up a “study session” with a _girl_ , Dad will look the other way most of the time. It’s kind of weak, actually, because shit needs to get done and people need saving, okay? But Sam didn’t even shoot a gun outside of practice 'til he was twelve, even if Dad gave him one when he was nine, so whatever, Dean tells himself him and Dad are just fine without Sam there.

So it’s fine. It’s fine until Sam’s doing so much goddamn studying, with or without a geek girl (mostly geek girls, mostly) working not to drool all over Dean’s little brother’s notes, that Sam’s grades get _really_ good. They were good before, but now they’re _really_ good, and Dean doesn’t even get it. How can Sam _think_ when he’s got a fucking gaggle of girls going, “ooh, shiny!” whenever he so much as farts or something? Dean’s fucking brother and his fucking mutant brain. Jesus.

But whatever, the grades happen, and Dean knows because Dad really, really doesn’t care. Even the prospect of Sam and girls is getting a little tired as an excuse now (people to save, monsters to hunt, get some priorities, Sam.) Dad doesn’t care about the grades, and Sam does. Sam really cares. And Dean knows something is coming down the pike. He sees everything Sam does now in stark relief. So he knows. 

A little part of Dean thinks that he might be able to stop this speeding train heading nowhere good, maybe if he could turn off the perma-glitter or the light-sucking power or what _ever_ the fuck is going on with Sam these days. Dad’s getting really fucking antsy about everything lately, though, so Dean just keeps his head down and does the job because if somebody doesn’t he doesn’t know what the hell will happen with Dad.

So that’s how Sam manages to sneak out an application to Stanford, and he must have gotten some of his weird glittery mojo on everything because they basically hand him the means to tell Dad and Dean to fuck off for an entire lifetime. Sam doesn’t think that’s what he’s doing, or at least that’s not how he explains it, but if he’d been paying attention to Dad and his weirdo fucking nerves for one second, he’d know. 

It’s just that Dad’s been on the trail of this—whatever—for almost as long as Sam’s been alive, and that’s got to eat at a man. Dad’s the best hunter for miles around, if there even is anyone else as good as him, and he’s stuck. He’s stuck in the same shit that took Mom, but Sam doesn’t have to care about that, he didn’t see it. So he just calls Dad obsessed and throws the letter down on the table. It’s probably too late, but that’s when Dean slams him up against the bedroom wall and asks what the fucking hell Sam did.

“I got into college, Dean.”

“Not that, you idiot. You’ve got like… Did your freaky mutant brain… I mean… the girls… And these Stanford people haven’t even met you….”

“You jealous?”

“What, because you’ve managed to find every freaking Velma in the zip code to take turns holding your books on the way home? No, I’m not jealous, Sam.”

Sam shrugs and smiles, like the conversation’s over, and Dean could hit him.

“I asked you a question,” he growls instead.

“Maybe I’ve just been watching you.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. “The fuck you have. I don’t glow. I’m not some mutant alien glittering in the moonlight.”

“Oooh. The moonlight… I love it when you get poetic.”

“I should end you. You did something. I know you did.”

Sam shrugs and smiles again. “I made a wish.”

“What the fuck?”

“You just have to know how to do it right. Latin helps. And some of the Irish dialects. You know, all that stuff that’s in Uncle Bobby’s boring books you never open.”

“You wished you’d look like a fairy?” Dean’s definitely just this edge of punching Sam, and he can’t keep the anger out of his tone. Of course Sam would fuck around right now. He’s doing this shit for fun.

Sam just watches Dean like all this is totally rolling off of him, and right now? Dean totally hates Sam and his fucking mutant brain and his glowing alien powers and his grades and his _fucking_ scholarship.

“You might want to remember to breathe,” Sam remarks.

“I definitely liked you better before you turned into a fucking fairy, Sam.”

“I didn’t turn into one. I only made a deal with one.”

“Oh. Smart move.”

Sam just smiles, like he’s actually proud of this. “Hey, it worked. You impress the right people….” He shrugs and spreads his hands like this is some kind of honest mistake. “I even got some girls. And their notes.”

And their notes. Fucking geek.

“This is fucked up, Sam.”

“Hello, Dean. Winchester? Nice to meet you?” Sam sticks out his hand like he’s offering to shake, but he pulls it back almost as fast. It’s good he knows Dean isn’t going to play this game with him. “Fucked up is kind of how it goes around here. Sue me for using some of the fuckedness to my advantage.”

Dean is suddenly so tired. So damn tired, listening to this.

“You made a fucking deal with the fae so you could go to school. Do you realize what a geek you are?” It’s stupid, but he just hasn’t got very much left.

“I made a deal to get out of here,” Sam says and shrugs again. “You could try it, Dean. You know he wouldn’t ever let us go any other way.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have anywhere I want to go. I sure as hell got nowhere to go that’s so important I’d make Dad fucking disown me.”

“That’s his choice.”

“Is it, glitter boy?”

Sam just shrugs.

And just like that, Sam’s gone. He stops glowing the next Monday at six fifteen PM on the dot—Dean’s doing pasta and the geekboy’s still got his nose in a book at the kitchen table with school out three weeks ago. Dean wants to throw the book in the fucking pasta pot, but he doesn’t because he knows any day now, any day now, no more Sam. 

And he’s right, because it’s not even twenty-four hours before Sam’s gone.

Dean hopes they’ll take one look at Sam when he gets to goddamn Palo Alto and realize they didn’t get the fairy king they were looking for and boot him to the fucking curb.

But they don’t.

And Dean hunts, he hunts for four goddamn (long, long) years, and he is not jealous at all. Dean loves hunting. He lives for it.

But when he hears the message from Dad brimming over with EVP, and he turns the car on a dime to head west, he knows he doesn’t just live for hunting. No, not just that. He’s not going to say it, so don’t fucking ask him to. He’s just going to drive.


End file.
